


A GODDAMN Pinnacle

by ninjakins



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Jurassic Park Fusion, Crack Crossover, Dinosaurs, Fluff and Crack, Geese, M/M, Motorbikes, Soulmates, War Veteran Bucky Barnes, dinosaur nerd steve rogers, goose of destiny, jurassic park AU!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 12:57:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17467994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninjakins/pseuds/ninjakins
Summary: Bucky has got a job, a motorbike, and his *shit together*, thank you very much. At least until the freaky bird-dinosaur showed up.He's 90% sure its imaginary. 95%, even.





	A GODDAMN Pinnacle

**Author's Note:**

> Fic exchange fic! 
> 
> I was given the prompts: Stucky, PTSD, and dinosaurs! And then there was a conversation about the Goose Of Destiny trope from tumblr. So here’s the cracktastic Stucky, Marvel Universe, Jurassic Park AU I never thought I'd write.

If there was one thing James Buchanan Barnes took seriously, it was mental health. It didn’t take long after his official discharge to understand that the army had done an excellent job preparing his body for war--and grudgingly replacing the bits that didn’t make it home--but they’d done jack shit for his brain. So Bucky was early to every therapy appointment--both physical and and cognitive. Bucky took his meds. Bucky journaled his thoughts. Bucky avoided caffeine and got sunshine and a full night’s sleep and took camping trips to the middle of bum-fuck nowhere during the Fourth of July so he wouldn’t murder his neighbors.

Bucky Barnes was a goddamn _pinnacle_ of self care.

At least, he had been until the Archaeopteryx showed up.

At least, that’s what he’d decided it was. The proper protocol for post traumatic delusions is Do Not Engage (Bucky was a goddamned pinnacle of mental health, _pinnacle_ )so he only caught glimpses of it out of the corner of his eye. A reptilian creature with brackish, mottled feathers that were a camo pattern of black and grey. Wings that appeared made not so much for flying as gliding and buffeting targets menacingly. A short beak and beady eyes that gave it a goose-like head and--dear god were those teeth?

No, no. Bucky wasn’t looking. Looking at things that weren’t there was not healthy and Bucky = pinnacle.

If he twitched over his shoulder and happened to take paths that took him away from a hell-raptor that wasn’t there, well at least there was no one to see him. Which was good: he needed this job.

Once the army had dumped him on his ass, he’d tried to get security grunt work, but all the private firms didn’t appear interested in hiring a washed up vet with one arm. (He had two, just one was metal but that never seemed to matter.) Then Natasha had invited him out for beers and asked him if he objected to employer NDAs.

Bucky had given her The Look which was loaded with the sketchiness of _both_ their military histories, and Nat had slid a card across the table.

Which is how he ended up working as a groundskeeper in a questionably legal dinosaur park. His duties aren’t that strenuous, all things considered. Minor go-fer tasks, hay for the feeder goats, and a whole lot of driving along fencing to make sure the goddamned velociraptors weren’t causing headaches again.

All in all, Bucky’s had weirder jobs. But the visions are new. There’s no Archaeopteryx display on the island. He only knows that’s what the vision is because he spent a drunken night googling “freaky bird dinosaur.” It only appears to show up when Bucky is alone, which is most of the time, unfortunately.

Today, the creepy thing is keeping pace with his dirt bike as they--he, as _he_ \--cut across the bront range. It does a disconcerting flappy glide as they crest the rise and Bucky swears under his breath. Not at the Archaeopteryx, no, because talking to your delusions is weird. But just swears, in general, like a normal, non-traumatized person.

Pinnacle, Barnes. Pinnacle.

The main research complex is set on the back side of the public areas, which is why Bucky opts to come across the bront pen rather than wade through a mass of tourists and their too camera-perfect field guides. One field guide, in particular. Hammond gets his pick of the brightest paleontology and biology program grads and, as Hammond is fond of saying, _spares no expense_ to hire the best. But this one breaks the nerdy field researcher mold.

Bucky’s only seen him a couple times at the mandatory company events that Hammond is fond of, but near proximity has been enough. Sandy blond hair, a little wild compared to the neat darker neat beard.A million watt smile, with that kind of farmer’s market flannel soft dom vibe that makes Bucky want to get on his knees? Bucky’s content to admire from afar. At least afar he still passes for having his shit together.

The loading dock is blessedly empty and Bucky pulls to a stop next to the door. The Archaeopteryx blats its discontent with a positively hideous honk, and expresses its disdain for their destination by pecking at the dirt bike’s wheels. Bucky squares his shoulders and turns his back on the thing to begin unloading the specimen case from the back of the bike. One of the squints in the lab had requested specimen samples from the bronts...smelly samples. Yeah, guess who got that job.

“Ah! Mister Barnes!” The voice of his employer is perpetually cheerful, grandfatherly, and entirely unexpected. Bucky startles as Hammond peeks his head out the building door. “I was hoping to catch you! Is that the samples for the nutritional survey team?”

“Yes, sir.” Bucky catches a flutter of feathers as he turns with the case and begins to sweat. _Not now, Barnes. Hold it together._ “Just was gonna drop it off and get back to rounds.”

“Nonsense! Stay, there’s baked sole in the cafeteria today, you--” Hammond’s voice trails off and the small man steps further out onto the loading dock, gaze over his shoulder. “Oh brilliant, would you look at that.”

“Look at what, sir?” Bucky says, definitely not turning around. A Rex could be preparing to eat them all and he wouldn’t turn around. Because turning around might mean accidentally acknowledging the--

“Archaeopteryx!” Hammond sounds like a kid on Christmas. Something stabs Bucky in the calf and a beak full of ridiculously sharp teeth begins to yank at the cuff of his pants.

Trap. This, right here, has to be a trap. Somehow, his employer found out. Maybe his therapist talked? No. But either way, Bucky is not falling for it. He needs this job. He ignores the delusion raptor trying to peck a hole in his khakis with the blandest of expressions. “The what?”

“Archaeopteryx,” Hammond repeats. Then, to Bucky’s astonishment and horror, he steps down and reaches out a hand to Bucky’s personal demon. “Oh she is a beautiful girl.”

The feathered beast takes a snap at Hammond’s hand and it is just too much. Bucky stares. “You can see it?”

“Who couldn’t see such a pretty lass,” Hammond coos, as if the creature hadn’t just tried to remove his thumb. “A little larger than the original, of course. But that was expected, given the DNA donor.”

Bucky has lead elite commandos. Bucky has interrogated prisoners. Bucky has drank homebrew hooch with _goddamn Natasha Romanov_. But this? The world flips and he leans back against his bike. “It’s real? I mean--” Bucky covers up fast. “I mean, she is one of yours?”

Hammond finally graces him with a curious look. _Because who else would be breeding dinosaurs, idiot._ “We haven’t shared them with the paying public--awful difficult to keep contained, of course. The preserved DNA was entirely fragmented, quite a puzzle, if I do say.”

“Oh?” Bucky is not faint. The Archaeopteryx is definitely not chewing on his shoelaces now. Nope.

“Destiny goose DNA. That proved the ticket to fill in the missing pieces.” Hammond has given up on trying to pet the beast and stands, beaming his pride. “Don’t ask too many questions about how they got the samples, but well, spare no expense.”

Bucky’s mind commits a pratfall trying to take that in. Destiny geese, of course, is a thing he understands, if only in theory. He’s never seen one himself--having a goose show up was a one way ticket to emergency leave in the military. Whatever evolutionary hijinks decided to produce a goose species that tends to appear and harass people toward their soulmate, the universe must have a sense of humor. It’s a fact. Bucky leaves the hows to the squints in the lab. But this is definitely not a goose.

And not a delusion, either. Oh hell.

“What,” is all he manages. _God damn it, Barnes._ He used to be a witty bastard. “Why would you do that?”

“Spare no expense,” Hammond says, a bit smugly. “Of course we’ll need to breed them out a couple generations until they stop haring off to harass soulmates--too much goose in them now, as you see. This one seems quite attached to you.” Hammond raises his brows expectantly. “So, where are they?”

“Where’s who?”

“Your soulmate.” Hammond looks like a proud father. “Some of her hatchmates have already made their matches--calm down QUITE a bit after that, thank goodness. Have you figured out where she’s leading you yet?”

“I...no.” Bucky rubs his face, not quite ready to explain. “I was kind of trying to ignore it until it went away.”

“Oh, no, ill-advised. Quite ill-advised.” Hammond’s disapproval is gentle but pointed. “Destiny goose DNA, after all. Made for just one thing. Geese can get rather testy when they’re made to wait and well…” He raises a hand, thankfully this time out of biting range. “Most geese don’t have killing claws.”

The Archaeopteryx trills and fastens Bucky with a bleak, flat gaze. This time, when he curses, it is entirely at the creature.

Hammond takes the specimen box out of Bucky’s hands. “I’ll just bring these inside. No trouble at all. Take break for the day! Just try to keep her out of the public areas, if you can. Guests can be sensitive about the unexpected.” His employer makes a lofty shrug.

Bucky would give Hammond the proper frown that such a statement deserves, but he’s too busy staring down the Archaeopteryx. He’d swear he hadn’t noticed the length of its claws before or the way its nostrils flare. The beast makes a move for his ankle and Bucky is back on his dirtbike before he could think.

“Excellent! Excellent!” Hammond is already backing up toward the stairs. “Do take notes! I’m sure the team would appreciate it.”

The door to the research facility slams closed, and it seems to act as a signal. The Archaeopteryx locks beady eyes with him for one long moment, as if gloating that Bucky has finally paid it attention. Then it lets out another blarting honk, and shoots into motion across the yard.

“Fuck.” Bucky kicks the dirt bike into gear and tears after it.

It's a long jaunt across the facilities yard, and the damned thing is fast. Bucky shouldn’t be surprised, it did keep up with him on the dirt bike, but that was when the Archaeopteryx was a delusion. But, no, it made a perverse kind of sense. Of course Bucky wouldn’t get a normal destiny goose. Not him. He can pretend to be a pinnacle of goddamn Okay and whatever, but he’s still messed up. Instead of a goose he got a feathered hell lizard, who is probably as messed up as he is. The Archaeopteryx probably isn’t leading him to anyone at all, it is probably--

\--it is probably headed directly toward the education center. The tourist education center. The tourist education center full of _people._ Oh hell.

Hammond had asked him to keep the Archaeopteryx away from the public. Bucky really wants to keep this job. He guns on the dirtbike and acquires the speed to gain on the little feathered shit.

And too much speed to stop as the Archaeopteryx barrels straight through the center doors.

Instinct kicks in, thank god. Instead of trying to stop and spinning out into a pack of schoolchildren, Bucky focuses on avoiding collisions and keeping track of the loose dinosaur. Luckily, most park visitors have the sense to scatter as the Archaeopteryx swims into the crowd--maybe they’re familiar with the park’s history after all-- but Bucky still manages to gun his way through two dioramas, a food cart, and one mosquito mascot.

The destiny goose-dinosaur shows little interest in menacing anyone else but Bucky, still there are shrieks, general chaos. Bucky sees his job if not his life flash in front of his eyes as they careen through a construction tarp.

Bucky finally can throw on the brakes, and manages to come to a skidding halt before his bike plants into a concrete column, though his shocks are never gonna be the same after that. He practically leaps off the bike. The Archaeopteryx hunkers on a pile of construction wood and flairs its wings--each tipped with razor sharp claws. But Bucky isn’t about to be scared off again. He was going to wring the monster’s neck then let Hammond throw it in a cage, to hell with destiny.

The Archaeopteryx brandishes its claws, but a strangled grunt stops Bucky cold. There’s someone here. Shit, if he injured a visitor after all…

“Easy, buddy. Easy!” A low voice soothes, and it is the precise delicious tenor to send every hair up on the back of Bucky’s neck and the noise outside seems to fade. Damn the dinosaur. Bucky can’t help turn and peer cautiously around the half finished drywall. The display room is half finished, and dimly lit by work lamps, one of which throws a puddle of light over broad shoulders and flannel that makes Bucky’s pulse leap into his throat.

“Hey, buddy. I thought we were doing okay. You hungry?Is that it?” Handsome blonde field guide is here. Handsome farmers market soft dom field guide is here and inevitably going to witness Bucky’s fucked up _Not_ Pinnacleness. Perhaps the Archaeopteryx will at least be kind enough to kill him shortly after.

“Chips? Do you...do you eat chips?” Handsome field guide is holding something and sounds preoccupied. Maybe Bucky could slip away without embarrassment after all. Just back up slowly and--

The Archaeopteryx behind him lets out a loud honk that sounds somewhere between grinding gears and a dying seal. Bucky winces, and when he opens his eyes again….oh, Handsome field guide has blue eyes. Perfect, dazzling blue eyes. That’s nice.

“Oh, hi.” The man turns on a sheepish smile and Bucky is done thank you. “Did Sam send you? I swear I’m not skipping my shift, I just--she started to freak out and I was trying to calm her down.”

Two big shoulders jump in a gesture and Bucky finally glanced down to take in that he was carefully holding what appeared to be a very large, disgruntled grey goose methodically eating the buttons off Handsome’s farmer’s market flannel.

It was ridiculous to feel jealous of a goose, so Bucky reaches for the SECOND thought that came to him. “You bring a goose to work?”

“Oh, no!” Handsome looks horrified at the thought of such rule breaking. “I just...she kind of showed up a few days ago. I think she’s….well, Sam says she might be one of those...ah, magic geese.” He pauses. “It sounds silly when I say it, doesn’t it?”

“Not the even weirdest thing I’ve heard today, promise,” Bucky says.

Said goose honks and flails until the man let her hop out of his arms. She pinwheels on the concrete, ignoring Bucky entirely to march fearlessly up to the Archaeopteryx. Dinosaur eyes bird, and they exchange eerily similar squawks.

“I’ve named her Peggy. And that...heck. Is that an Archaeopteryx?” The awe in Handsome’s voice is adorable. Heck, he says _heck_. Somehow Bucky drifts closer, even though he should really be wrangling the escaped dinosaur and getting out here.

“Yeah, evidently.” Bucky doesn’t trust that damned beast. “You don’t think she’s gonna eat Peggy, will she?”

Handsome’s brows knit together as he watches the dinosaur hunch down, trilling lowly and raising its backend in the air. Bucky’s not the one with the dinosaur behavior education, but he guesses the answer to his own stupid question. But the pink that flushes up past Handsome’s neat beard is worth the price of admission. “Uh, no. I think they...like each other. Which is strange. She was trying to bite anyone who came close a minute ago.”

Destiny goose. Destiny dino-goose. The same conclusion appears to occur to both of them at once, and by now Bucky is close enough to feel the shiver of surprise through his shoulders as Handsome swivels around to look at him. His gaze slowly slides around the empty construction space before drawing back to Bucky’s face.

It feels like a shock when their eyes meet, a static frisson of now that is delight and horror all at once. _Oh yes_ , all Bucky wants in the world is for Handsome to keep looking at him like that. _Oh no_ , Bucky can’t look away. And he needs to look away because he barely holds it together most days and he needs this job and there’s no way a man this beautiful is going to want to be around him, magic goose-dinosaur or not.

It’s a magnetic hush, and for a moment Bucky thinks Handsome might just go right for it and kiss him. His pulse leaps. Too much, it’d all be too much and he really doesn’t want to freak out on such a disgustingly nice guy. But a tentative smile breaks over the wonder and Handsome holds out his hand instead. “I’m...ah, Steve, by the way. Steve Rogers.”

It’s at odds with the simmer of wonder-and-something-else in his eyes, but so soft, so unassuming. Like it’s Bucky’s choice whether to acknowledge ridiculous cosmic goose-related circumstances or not. It’s so kind that Bucky has the urge to climb the man and slip his hands beneath the flannel right now. Instead, he takes the handshake. “Steve. I’m Bucky.”

“Bucky.” The sunshine and warmth that breaks across Steve’s face is enough to at least start to melt Bucky’s nerves. The handshake slows, and then they’re just holding hands for too long. It doesn’t feel weird.

It feels warm, and nice. And Bucky is confused to realize that he’s the goddamn pinnacle of _happy_.

When Steve finally manages to glance away, one brow creeps up. “Peggy?”

Sure enough, goose and Archaeopteryx are not to be seen. A distant honk echos from somewhere near the main entrance, followed by a startled scream.

Steve’s wide eyes find Bucky’s. “That sounds like trouble. Shouldn’t we…?”

Right. The park, dinosaurs, chaos. Geese, dinosaurs, soulmates. Laugh bubbles up Bucky’s throat but he just grins and bumps Steve’s shoulder. “I got a bike. Hop on, Rogers.”

 

 


End file.
